


Door

by Janet_Coleman_Sides



Series: Floodverse [3]
Category: Kagaku Ninja Tai Gatchaman | Science Ninja Team Gatchaman
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-11
Updated: 2013-01-11
Packaged: 2017-11-25 03:19:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/634568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janet_Coleman_Sides/pseuds/Janet_Coleman_Sides
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Flood 2.5. Joe replaces the door he kicked down in 'After the Flood'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Door

Joe had no idea how fucking expensive front doors were.

He stands in the Home Junction biting his tongue, because even the cheapest, crappiest door they have (most suitable anyway for a house like Ken's) is going to wipe him out -- he'll be lucky if he has enough to cover the tax. 

But -- _dammit!_ \-- it _snowed_ last night, and when he got up to piss he thought his toes were going to break off on the icy tile of the bathroom floor. He's the one who knocked the goddamn door down. He made a good job of _that_ , since there's not enough left of the original door to repair. Joe has to replace it. Without complaining about it. But hell, he won't have anything left for _food._

He'd had a half assed sort of idea today, see. That they could have a decent meal. The only way to be sure of that was to make it himself, but now he won't be able to afford anything good, like steak. He certainly won't be able to afford booze. 

Scowling, Joe gives an explosive sigh and picks up his selection, hauling it to the front register. He needs his toes. Hard to be a ninja without toes. 

And he'd like to stop feeling like a prick whenever he looks at the tarp stapled over the former front door. 

In the end, he has just enough money left to get breakfast things, and cheap beer. And then he really is broke, tucking a limp wallet away in his pants. 

Oh well. Next time. 

***

"How did you get that here?" Ken asks.

(Good question. Joe had realized only in the parking lot that the G2 is completely unsuitable for carrying a front door. Long story short: He had to go and get his trailer.)

"I have my ways," says Joe. 

Ken looks suitably impressed as he takes the grocery bags into the kitchen. He says nothing about the cheap-ass beer, the store-brand bacon and bread and eggs. Joe is annoyed, because before he left he hinted that he was going to make something special. But he can't mention it -- because he simply can't bitch about how much the door cost. 

Not, at least, until after he's installed it and Ken's house is back to the way it was before. Then things will be back to normal. 

Maybe _normal_ isn't... exactly the right word. 

"Shall I help?" says Ken.

"No."

"You want me to cook...?" asks Ken doubtfully, poking the bread. 

" _Hell_ no." Ken has a way of turning food into not-quite-food-anymore. The simplest things elude him. You would think a good Japanese boy could make _rice_. But Joe stole his rice cooker years ago, and Ken never even noticed it was gone.

"What, nothing for me to do...?"

Oh, now. Ken is giving him that look, it's That Look on his face and Joe is already getting hot. He turns away, face red.

"You can _watch_. And think about how to thank me when I'm done putting this door in." 

"I can do that." Ken gives a soft laugh that's like a warm tongue moving up Joe's spine. _He does that on purpose_ wars with _How does he do that?_ for ascendancy in his head for a moment, then he drops them both knowing it doesn't matter. There are a lot of amazingly unexpected things Ken can do. 

He just can't _cook._

After several ugly moments when Joe thinks he's gotten the wrong size door after all that, he notices a loose nail sticking out that had been helping to keep the tarp on. The door fits after all, though for all its cheapness, its spanky _newness_ looks a little weird against Ken's house, inside and out. Like a new tooth in an old mouth. 

_There._ He turns toward Ken, and halts at the Look he sees there now... Ken sitting down by the kitchen counter, leaning his head against his hand, staring at Joe with a dreamy sort of smile. Looking at Joe as though Joe were as gorgeous as -- 

Well. As Ken. 

Which is silly. But Ken has weird taste, after all.

"Well, it's finally warm in here," says Joe, and takes the opportunity to take his shirt off. He stretches his arms and back, making a big show of it. 

Now Ken's not so dreamy -- now he's pointed at Joe like a heat seeking Bird Missile. 

"Are you finished with the door?"

The voice is like dark smoky silk now, Joe can hear in the voice that Ken's excited, a little breathless. 

"Yeah, I'm done."

"Good. Then it's time to thank you," says Ken, standing up.

Oh yeah. Joe did say something like that. Ken took him literally, it seems. 

"What, did you think of something already?"

"I've had time to think of a lot of things." Ken comes forward, reaches down -- his fingers hooking into the waistband of Joe's jeans, pulling him forward with a sudden jerk. 

Oh, _yeah._

They collide in a kiss, hot and molten and delicious -- Ken's mouth is a bit minty, like he's had a Life Saver or something -- and Joe's whole body is shuddering with how ready he is. Except... except for his skin, which twitches all over with sudden self consciousness. They're standing in the middle of the living room. In broad daylight. Not drunk or _anything._

He tries to tug Ken wordlessly toward the bedroom. But Ken won't take the hint. His hands are busy peeling Joe's jeans down. Joe's cock throbs triumphantly when granted this sudden, unexpected freedom. Panting, heart pounding, he mutters, "wait -- come on, bed -- "

Ken shakes his head. "No, here." And then he doesn't talk anymore because he's wrapping that hot minty-sweet mouth around Joe's cock, stifling all idea of protest in Joe, though it does nothing to actually dispel his self consciousness. 

Ken pauses a moment, gasping, to pull off his own shirt and fling it toward the couch. His skin, unveiled, is always a wonder. Smooth, golden, tight over lean muscles -- the scars are somehow an enhancement to his beauty rather than taking anything away. Joe wants to lie down with him and bite and lick him in many places -- but Ken wants to do it _here._

He almost gets enough brain together to ask again, to make it more like a demand, when Ken scatters it all again by sucking him in, engulfing him -- hungry, greedy even. Hot hands, callused fingers gripping Joe's thighs. 

Joe's hands instinctively seek out their anchor in Ken's hair -- that dark thick silky hair that's delicious to touch, even when you're not touching it at your own crotch level... but when you _are_ , well... 

Joe catches himself glancing toward the newly installed door. It practically shouts at people to suddenly walk in through it. He experiences an absurd moment of longing as his gaze lingers on the bundle of tarp on the floor -- but he knows Ken would never go for that. 

Ken stops what he's doing, leaning his head back to look up at him, one hand wrapped tight but unmoving around Joe's shaft. "Problem...?"

His eyes are challenging Joe, but the thing that really gets Joe is how his voice sounds. Ken is panting in a way he never would if they were fighting. If they were fighting Ken would never let him hear it. 

Joe grits his teeth. "No."

_Except you've still got your pants on._

Ken's thumb sweeps over the tip of his cock, smearing the juices around. Joe moans low in his throat. 

Ah! He thinks of one thing -- one thing that can get them into the bedroom after all. "Lube...?" he pants, and sort of nods his head toward the hallway.

Ken lets go of him and stands up, forcing Joe to release his hair. Ken is smiling at him, a little slyly, but his mouth is all wet from sucking Joe's cock and so he looks cute... he pulls something from his pocket and hands it to Joe. Joe looks stupidly down at it -- it's a small bottle of lube. It's warm from being in Ken's pocket. 

Joe looks back up at Ken. 

Ken turns away from Joe, toward the couch. He unbuckles his belt, starts sliding his jeans down, looking back over his shoulder at Joe as he bares more skin. Just a _glimpse_ of that ass scatters what remain of Joe's wits.

_OK, brother. You want it here, you get it here. And if Jun or Jinpei comes waltzing in you can think up some really clever explanation...!_

Ken seems to be expecting to be bent over the couch, but that's not what Joe wants to do. (This time, anyway.) Joe bends down to get his shoes and jeans the rest of the way off -- he _would_ rather be naked in the living room than hop around like an idiot with his pants around his ankles -- then, taking Ken's arm, leads him around the front of the couch. 

They're both naked now, both panting. Joe can see Ken trying to figure out what Joe is going to do, and it gives Joe a strange sort of thrill to know that in this case -- Ken _doesn't_ already know what he's thinking. 

The couch faces the new front door. Joe refuses to look at it, but he can see it out of the corner of his eye, like the stupid monolith in that movie, only in spanky Home Junction white. 

Joe lies down on the couch, on his back with one foot on the floor, and lubes up his cock, feasting his eyes on Ken's body, on his flushed face, on the flash of white teeth as Ken bites his lower lip. He holds a hand out to Ken: _come here..._

Ken smiles all of a sudden, then climbs onto the couch and onto Joe. 

_"Oh Christ!"_ He could have... could have gone slower than that! But Ken gives himself no quarter, driving down onto Joe's cock with a deep groan that is swallowed by Joe's surprised shout. Sitting up straight on top of Joe, head tipped back, trembling, he's so _fucking beautiful..._

and so fucking tight... and so hot and so _goooood..._

so good so good better than anyone better than anything! 

Ken shudders on top of him, then tips his head forward again to look down at Joe. Those eyes. 

Joe has kept the little bottle in one hand. He opens it and squeezes some of the slippery liquid out onto Ken's cock, which rears up hard over his belly like a mirror image of his own. 

He drops the bottle overboard and reaches for Ken's hand, wrapping it around Ken's cock. Ken looks into his eyes, questioningly. 

_Stroke yourself. Let me see you make yourself come. Let me see you..._

Either Ken reads it in his eyes, or it's clear enough from what Joe's already done. He takes the hint. 

Then it's a challenge to Joe -- not to come right away, because Ken _feels_ so good, and he _looks_... oh God, how he looks. 

Ken: hair mussed, face flushed, sitting naked astride Joe. His hand stroking his cock -- swollen and quivering and shiny with lube. 

Joe bucks his hips. Ken gasps. 

_You're so beautiful._

Ken begins to ride him, and strokes his own cock while looking down into Joe's eyes. He's got that dreamy look again. 

"Joe," he murmurs. 

" _Yeah,_ " says Joe, teeth gritted, and pumps his hips up, meeting Ken in the same rhythm but twice as hard. Ken steadies himself with one hand splayed on Joe's belly, while the other one whips up and down on his cock. 

"Joe!" 

"Do it," snarls Joe, "show me!" 

Ken closes his eyes, mouth opening in a hoarse cry as he tightens around Joe in pulses, spurting -- Joe feels the come against his skin, hot as lava, all the way up to his neck, but it is like a distant afterthought compared to the vision of Ken writhing on top of him, pearl beads of come leaping from the cock in his hand, hot hot velvet grip squeezing Joe's cock _so fucking tight -- !_

Joe plants his feet, one on the couch and one on the floor, and a harsh, wordless cry boils up out of him as he thrusts up -- up -- _oh -- God -- Ken!!_

" _Yes,_ " he hears Ken say, but just barely -- Joe is coming, coming so hard, back arched, the top of his head pressed painfully against the arm of the couch. 

When his brain comes back from wherever it went, Joe finds Ken still on top of him, licking his neck. Ken lifts his head, looks down at Joe, and smiles. 

"Thank you," says Ken. 

"Thank _me...?_ " says Joe, completely lost. Then he remembers what he said before. "Oh. Right." The door. He glances aside at it. Squirms slightly. 

"Well. I broke it down in the first place," he mutters. "Sorry." 

Ken's smile gets bigger. "I'm not," he says. 

This is getting into a sappy sort of place that makes Joe squirm even more. So he pretends not to know what Ken means, even though Joe's face is already betraying him with visible heat. "What, you like _this_ one better...?" he says, nodding toward the new door. "You have weird taste." 

Ken laughs, looking as pleased as if Joe just said something nice. 

"Yeah." Blue eyes sparkling. "I know."


End file.
